


invasion

by celestial_horizon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Hogan Needs A Drink, Home Invasion, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Peter Parker, They love each other, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, but nothing really happens, tagging just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 03:18:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_horizon/pseuds/celestial_horizon
Summary: may and peter just wanted a casual, relaxed night in. but, as the old ‘parker luck’ would have it, things didn’t go as planned.orthe parker’s become victims of a home invasion





	invasion

**Author's Note:**

> This idea literally came to me in the form of a very vague dream, and I couldn’t go back to sleep afterwards so I decided to write it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> (Apologies for any mistakes/typos!)

Peter and May were sitting across from each other at their small dining table, pretending to enjoy the bitter taste of her attempted copycat Cracker Barrel meatloaf. She had spent an hour and a half just preparing the dish. The teenager didn’t want to seem spoiled or picky and definitely didn’t want to hurt May’s feelings, so he continued to bite into the burnt, over-seasoned beef despite his enhanced taste buds screaming at him to spit it out.

 

The aftertaste was even worse, prompting Peter to grab a heap of the Kraft macaroni she hastily made as a side dish so he could wolf three forkfuls down in hopes of somewhat smothering the awful taste with a bout of melted cheese.

 

They ate without saying a word to each other for ten minutes when May finally broke the silence.

 

“I’m gonna be honest,” she said, taking sip of her of her Stella Artois. “This didn’t come out as good as I had hoped.”

 

Peter watched his aunt expectantly as she stood up and strode over to the trash can.

 

“I won’t torture you anymore, Pete,” The woman dumped it all into the garbage. It hit the bottom of the newly changed bag with a satisfying squelch and Peter breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“I thought I was going to be hurling my insides out all night, May,” he laughed, copying her actions. They settled back into their chairs and agreed that mac ‘n cheese and a couple mandarin orange fruit cups would suffice for the night.

 

About halfway through a deep discussion about Shane Dawson’s latest conspiracy theory video (Ned had shown Peter one because it mentioned Spider-Man and May walked in on her nephew binging them the following night. Needless to say, she was hooked), Peter got a familiar nagging at the nape of his neck. It was dull, but there, and May took notice when his attention started to drift from the conversation to the door over her shoulder. His bad feeling was only worsening by the minute, and some kind of messed up nervous anticipation filled his body. He began bouncing his legs and tapping his fork against his plate absentmindedly. He accidentally flicked a glob of cheese into the sleeve of his grey sweater and didn’t notice until May wiped it off for him.

 

May placed her fingers on the teen’s hand to cease his fidgeting. Peter was slightly startled by the small but sudden sharp coolness of her wedding ring that contrasted the comforting warmth of her fingers.

 

“Hey, look at me,” she said softly. Peter took his eyes off the door for a second, meeting his aunt’s. His hand stopped moving but it only caused his leg to bounce even faster. “What’s wrong, honey?”

 

This time, Peter couldn’t help but fix his gaze on the door once again. His enhanced hearing picked up a distant scuffling of feet and he could hear voices hissing urgently from down the hall. There had to be at least five people.

 

Peter’s spidey sense blared. “Get down,” he spoke. May’s expression went from gentle and concerned to flat out frightened.

 

“What? Peter, what’s—“

 

“Get under the table, May!” He ordered a little louder this time. Did he feel bad about shouting at his aunt? Maybe. A little. Definitely. But somebody was coming and if Peter’s ears weren’t deceiving him he could hear the clanking of assault rifles and the group was rapidly approaching the apartment.

 

She didn’t ask again and slipped underneath the furniture without any further protest. Pete followed suit just as their door was kicked in and a group of people swarmed the place clad in black, multicolored bandanas covering their face.

 

Peter made a move to slip away, thinking maybe he could reach his webshooters or suit in time but May’s hand reached out and gripped his wrist tighter than he thought she was capable. They locked eyes and she gave him a look, shaking her head slowly. Peter silently begged her to let him fight them off because he _could_. The first man stepped into the living room and the young hero’s conjecture about the guns were true, but the others only had pistols or bats and with his gadgets and powers he would totally be able to fight them off.

 

But May didn’t back down and if possible held his wrist even tighter than before, mustering the fiercest look he’d ever seen her give. Living with May Parker, that said a lot.

 

Reluctantly, Peter sank back down into a kneeling position. He knew she was right. Their best course of action was to cooperate.

 

A few seconds later the man with the assault rifle spotted them and pointed it at the pair. May and Peter’s hands shot up.

 

“Get out from under the table!” He shouted in a thick Brooklyn accent. The guy was also the biggest red-head Peter thinks he’d ever seen, complete with freckles and striking blue eyes.

 

Peter and May complied, careful not to make any sudden movements.

 

“Hands where I can see ‘em! That’s it, nice and slow,” he commanded. Once they were both standing in the center of the small dining area, the rest of the criminals filed in. Red, as Peter dubbed him, turned his head towards them, gun still trained on Peter and May. The teen shot a glance towards his aunt, surprised to see her jaw set in anger, not a hint of fear evident in her face.

 

Red cocked his head back and three other men who followed him into the apartment began searching through the home. It became clear at that point that this was a robbery.

 

A woman joined Red, the bright yellow bandana that hid the bottom half of her face greatly contrasting her dark, obsidian-like skin.

 

“On your knees,” she ordered in the same accent as Red. “Put your hands on the back of your head,” The pair, again, obliged. The silver bat she held in her left hand somehow felt much more threatening than the rifle.

 

A burning rage flared up inside Peter, filling his entire body when he caught sight of what the other men were doing. Not only were they carelessly rummaging through all their things, but the robbers were ruthlessly smashing and breaking anything they deemed worthless. The teenager watched as some dude with bright-green hair punched a picture of Peter, Ben, and May at Coney Island when he was just 11, shattering the picture frame.

 

Peter was ready to ignore May’s wishes and start kicking his way through these guys when Red suddenly slammed his rifle down on the coffee table, fishing something out of his pockets as he hurried behind May.

 

Pete’s heart rate picked up again and he curled his finger into a fist, fighting off the overwhelming urge he had to pummel this guy into oblivion. He was currently unarmed, but that didn’t change the fact that the other four people in this room had guns and even with his powers, Peter wasn’t Neo and this wasn’t The Matrix.

 

Aunt May let out a sudden yelp as she was forced to the ground face-first.

 

“Hey—“ was all Peter was able to get out before he too was slammed onto the floor by another guy he had no idea was even with them. His forehead struck the kitchen tile painfully and it throbbed as the mystery man roughly forced the teen’s arms behind his back.

 

Some sort of coarse, thick rope was being wrapped around both of their wrists. Peter’s was pulled ridiculously  tight and he grimaced as the man tied the final knots.

 

Peter moved his head so his cheek was pressed against the cool floor and faced his aunt. His heart fell through the floor at the sight of her grimacing, body jerking every time Red tightened the rope.

 

God, he was going to beat the ever-loving _fuck_ out of every last one of them once this was over.

 

Peter and May were then hauled to their feet and forced into the same chairs they were peacefully eating dinner in not five minutes before, the men getting to work on tying their ankles to the wooden legs. The guy who had somehow snuck up behind Peter had the same dark hair and complexion as the woman, and he could only assume they were siblings.

 

The macaroni lay undisturbed on the nearby table, and as his limbs were secured to the seats Pete leaned over and whispered to May.

 

“I think the food’s getting cold.”

 

May looked at her nephew like he had several heads and the boy smirked for a second until his head snapped to the side with the force of the woman’s punch. Pain flared in the space underneath his eye. May seemed to want to scream, but knew better and kept her mouth shut.

 

“So much for making the best out of a bad situation, huh?” He muttered, gritting his teeth. The woman bent over so her eyes were level with Peter’s. She stayed there, surveying the boy until Red and her most-likely brother were done restraining him and his aunt.

 

“Looks like somebody’s got a mouth,” she spoke, sounding rather amused. The woman stood up straight again, taking a few steps back. She leaned her weight onto the baseball bat casually, like this was an everyday thing.

 

“We don’t have any money,” Peter tried slowly. He wasn’t trying to get hit, but wanted to do everything he could to keep the attention away from May. Red and the other man were already eyeing her the way eighty percent of guys she comes across do, and if they tried anything like... like _that_ , Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

 

The lady pressed a hand to her ear, listening to something one of her counterparts was saying through the comms. A smirk made its way onto her face. “Well,” she began, jerking her head back to sweep the dark hair out of her face. “Connor says he just found real pearls. I don’t know about you, but six thousand dollars sounds like quite a lot of money to me.”

 

Peter could practically hear May’s heart breaking along with his own. That pearl necklace they were about to steal was the last gift Ben had ever given her. “Please, anything but that,” May pleaded. The woman simply stared at Peter’s aunt. “You have no idea how much it—“

 

“Nice try, but in this business I’ve learned to learn to ignore sentiment,” there wasn’t a hint of regret in her eyes. Peter found himself tense, tugging slightly harder at the ropes. The skin around his wrist was already becoming irritated and raw. “I’d tell you to stay put, but you’re not going anywhere. Those ropes are laced with vibranium,” If possible, Peter’s heart sunk even further. As soon as the woman disappeared out of sight he tested the restraints to find out if she was telling the truth because if so, he and May were royally screwed. Peter’s strong, but a vibranium weave? This is the stuff Black Panther’s suit is made out of.

 

The young hero began tugging his hands apart hard. He tried to be as subtle as he possible, but found his muscles shaking with the strain of the action. A pool of undeniable dread formed in the pit of his stomach.

 

Each time Peter attempted to break through the ropes he tried a little harder, used a little more of his strength, but to no avail. He finally used all of his strength, eliciting a small groan of effort from the teen.

 

Nothing.

 

Peter turned his head to face May, “She wasn’t lying,” he whispered. “I cant break out of these.” He simply got a nod in response. His aunt had a far off look in her watering eyes, staring at nothing in particular like she couldn’t really fathom what was happening. All traces of the fierce woman that stood defiantly a few minutes ago were taken along with that pearl necklace.

 

By this time the group was opening up the window on the far side of their apartment which led down to the dark street. It seemed they had some sort of pulley system where they lowered the duffle bags containing the stolen items down to a second party waiting on the ground.

 

As three men and the woman from earlier got to work on that, Red and the guy who at this point Peter was convinced was the lady’s brother (he opted to call him “Joe” for now), lingered around the pair who were essentially hostages at this point. Red wouldn’t stop pacing around them in circles, his gaze never leaving May.

 

Three excruciating minutes passed before the guy actually made a move. He stopped just behind her, taking a step forward so his front was leaning against the chair. May tensed, and Peter watched helplessly as Red threw his bandana down to reveal his sharp jaw and stubble to match his hair. He began rubbing her shoulder and caressing her face. She flinched, trying to jerk her head away from his invasive touch but it only seemed to egg him on more.

 

The criminal tangled his fingers in her auburn locks, keeping it in place. Peter grit his teeth, an indescribable vexation overtaking him. He balled his bound hands into fists harder than he realized and within seconds the teen drew blood. It was when the man’s filthy, perverted hands began rubbing her inner thigh that Pete couldn’t take any more.

 

“Stop touching her,” he growled, eyes boring holes into Red’s own. It came out a little less steady than he’d have liked, but their damn apartment was being ransacked and destroyed and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

 

Red didn’t respond to this comment, only giving Joe a quick nod of his head in Peter’s direction. The other man strode towards where Pete sat with ridiculous nonchalance before securing his rough hands around the teen’s chair and yanking it to the left so he was completely facing May. Joe then dragged Peter back a few feet, ensuring the boy had a perfect view of whatever sick activity Red had in mind. He continued to slowly run his hands over May’s body. She wasn’t even trying to fight back. Peter wondered if she was in some kind of shock, because this was not the woman he knew. His aunt would be struggling to no end, biting, jerking, doing everything possible to get that creep’s unwelcomed touch away from her.

 

But she was just sitting there, looking almost lifeless.

 

It went on for another fifteen seconds before Red’s hand went over her chest. Peter was so sickened and repulsed that he was forced to swallow back down bile that rose out of his throat.

 

Peter began violently jerking in place. “Stop touching her, _please_ ,” he begged. At this point it didn’t matter how pathetic he sounded. Fuck that. May was being violated right in front of him and he was going to do everything in his power to make it stop. “Just take what you want and leave.”

 

Peter continued on with his pleas, and it seemed to be working. Every time the teen opened his mouth, Red visibly twitched in annoyance and slowed his movements.

 

“Just stop it. Leave her alone!” Peter raised his voice and struggled more, hoping to continue his endeavor. Red flinched again, but still ignored him and brought his mouth down to the woman’s neck as if going further would help him focus on his sadistic, perverted goal.

 

“No, don’t—!”

 

“Christ, Joe. Would you shut the fucking kid up already?!” He yelled. What do you know? He got his name right. Peter felt a strong sense of accomplishment when Red finally took his hands from May’s form and she somewhat relaxed. Only, now both men were focused on him, and they were _pissed_. But Peter would take any form of torture if it meant keeping May out of harms way.

 

Before the teenager could process what was happening he felt a sudden jolt originating from his neck. The pain that followed was agonizing. It burned throughout Peter’s body, making him seize uncontrollably in place as electricity coursed through every cell. He distantly thought he heard a woman screaming for them to stop, but couldn’t tell over the way his restrained limbs cramped up, locking him in place more so than he already was.

 

Just as Peter thought he couldn’t possibly take anymore, the taser Red had jabbed into his neck stopped buzzing but remained threateningly above his jugular. Peter panted, continuing to jerk at random.

 

“Still wanna be a fucking turn off, you little brat?” He spat, clutching Peter’s jaw with his hand and forcing the teen to look up at him. A few flecks of Red’s spit managed to make their way onto Pete’s face as he spoke, causing him to grimace in disgust. The stench of the pervert’s breath also hit him full force. He would have immediately turned away if not for the hand remaining clasped around his face.

 

“Maybe,” Peter grit out, “if you learned proper dental hygiene, you wouldn’t have to rape girls to get them to have sex with you.”

 

This earned a snort from Joe at his right, but only infuriated Red further. He chucked the taser at the basin sink where it shattered upon making contact and pulled out a pocket knife and pair of brass knuckles from him pocket.

 

“You think you’re funny?” He sneered, sliding the brass knuckles down his fingers and pointing the end of the knife far too close to Peter’s face. “You think you’re a hot shit, huh?” Red pushed Pete’s head back to keep it steady and dragged the knife along his cheek, drawing blood. Peter hissed, the sting not like anything he hadn’t felt before but still mildly painful nonetheless. “I think we oughta teach you a lesson,” He punctuated the last word, lifting the knife from the boy’s face but instead bringing it down into his upper leg only inches above the knee.

 

A hoarse scream made its way up Peter’s throat as the pain registered. Flesh parted with a sickening slice, making way for the foreign object to dig further into his limb.

 

But Red wasn’t done. He clutched the hilt of the knife and pulled it towards his own chest while still in the teen’s legs so that the silver blade ripped apart the muscle underneath. Peter groaned as the extraordinarily sharp, intense ache only worsened, blood soaking his pants around the spot of the injury.

 

May was begging them to stop just as Peter had done for her a minute ago, but there was no way in hell he was going to let this fucking creep lay a finger on her again. Despite the crippling pain shooting its way up his leg and the leftover cramping his muscles couldn’t seem to stop doing, he still mustered up the courage to antagonize Red and Joe further.

 

“Does your sister know you get off by watching people torture teenagers and assault women?” Peter said through clenched teeth. “I figured not, seeing as she’s doing all the work. You’re clearly from the shallow end of the gene pool.”

 

Peter watched as Joe moved a few feet in front of him, the older man’s face falling beneath the orange bandana. The slight flicker of amusement it displayed a few moments ago was replaced with irritation and a hint of confusion.

 

“That woman,” he enunciated in his gruff voice, “is my wife.”

 

“Wow,” Peter breathed out. “I guess what they say is true—“ he never got to finish that particular insult, as he was cut off by his own shout pain. Red quickly and brutally tore the knife from his leg. Tears sprung into the teen’s eyes and his insides threatened to upchuck May’s meatloaf onto his bloodied jeans.

 

In all honesty, Peter was _terrified_. The bravado he put on seemed to stem from his love and concern for May. In any other situation, there’s no way in hell he’d have the guts to slander and disparage two men who were torturing him, but he was tied to a chair with vibranium-laced rope and there was no other way to protect her but with his words.

 

Red smirked down at his victim before turning his attention to a fuming Joe, slipping the brass knuckles off his fist and casually tossing them to his colleague.

 

“Why don’t you relieve some of that frustration, yeah?” He sauntered over May, bending down to untie her ankles from the chair. Peter was quick to spew a bout of protests, but one glance from Red was all it took for Joe to move behind the frantic boy and clamp his large, gasoline-smelling hands over his mouth, silencing his beseeches to leave her alone.

 

May began to struggle, kicking out as soon as her left leg was free. Her foot smashed into Red’s nose, crimson immediately coating the blue and white striped sock she wore. “Son of a bitch,” he seethed. Peter watched in horror as Red ripped the last of her restraints off, lifting the woman from the chair and over his shoulder. May kicked and screamed, hurling insults Peter had never dreamed would come from his aunt’s mouth.

 

Red turned, making to walk to one of the bedrooms and in doing so allowing Peter and May to look at each other. They exchanged panicked glances and it was then Peter realized they were heading in the direction of the guest bedroom which was conveniently located by their wall of photographs. _The panic button_ , Pete thought frantically. Tony had installed one not even a month ago for situations just like this, disguising it as a simple picture frame when in reality a single push would activate a device, alerting Tony, Happy, or anybody Peter knew who was available to help.

 

Mind scrambling for some way to alert May that she was heading towards the button, Peter did the first thing that came to mind. He widened his mouth just enough that his top row of teeth were able to fit over Joe’s index finger and chomped down as hard as he could, ignoring the sour and metallic taste the grimy fingers left in his mouth when he drew blood.

 

Just as Peter had hoped, Joe let out a cry of pain and recoiled. As May ceased her struggling for a moment and looked up to see what was going on, Peter took this opportunity to shout the crucial words, praying to whatever higher being above she’d understand.

 

“The button, May! The button!” He yelled. His aunt’s expression morphed from something resembling confusion into sweet realization that made Peter so relieved he could have cried. As Red grew nearer to that wall, May kicked out wildly with her feet and struck the picture frame, carefully disguising it as a futile attempt to get away. In reality, they had just alerted Tony Stark of their predicament.

 

The panic button had been designed to work in a way where, once activated, cameras meticulously hidden around the apartment immediately began live-streaming to Tony or any available individual who could help. Friday was also ordered to contact the police.

 

Neither of the miscreants seemed to notice nor care what they were doing. Joe was still cursing over his Peter-induced injury and Red disappeared behind the corner.

 

Red’s earlier advice about letting off some steam seemed to appeal to Joe, and the first blow of what would be many collided with the side of the teenager’s head. He couldn’t help the pathetic grunt that escaped his mouth or the wad of blood mixed with saliva that he spit out. Peter had seen brass knuckles used in tv shows plenty of times. The characters immediately got up, but all he wanted as the third and fourth punch knocked his head violently to the side was to curl up in the corner and beg for it to end.

 

The cut Peter had obtained on his face earlier courtesy of Red’s knife had begun to hastily heal in the short break he was given, but as Joe’s punches rained down on him it was split back open, amplifying the pain that radiated throughout his body each time the fist made contact with his skin. The next few minutes were a blur of agony and fear.

 

What felt like hours of being used as essentially a punching bag came to an abrupt end as the gang of thieves quickly abandoned the destroyed apartment. Red sprinted out of the bedroom, and if not for the fist being driven into his stomach Peter would have let out a quite hysterical laugh of relief. He’d never been so happy to see those bright red and blue lights flashing through the navy blue curtains of their apartment.

 

Joe quickly followed the others, but not before driving his fist back with all the might he could muster. Peter watched through bruised and bloodied eyes as the man’s unforgiving fist was brought down onto his temple with such brute force that it toppled the chair over.

 

Knowing May was now safe, he allowed the darkness that’d been tugging at his consciousness to overtake him.

 

Peter was out before he even hit the ground.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is a two-shot, so the next part with be up within the next couple of days.
> 
> Comments really do mean more than you might think. Feedback is always appreciated!


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